In my family’s quarters, I peek inside my parents’ bedchambers at my mother wrapped up in her sheets. She might have given up on me now, and my heart breaks at that possible truth. I hate the very idea of drawing Marcus away from his duty in Camelot. Any connection of him to Morgan might result in his mother’s expulsion and his treason. I hate to think how badly I want to relinquish my own duty, even if aeroships would be sent for so Camelot’s subjects can escape. If Morgan tries to claim Camelot, it’ll be for an empty castle. But we must defend that empty castle in the hope the Grail is real. Or else face a world where a witch could drink from the chalice to gain immortality and provide the same to her son. I look to the knights’ quarters in case their lanterns would still be lit. But the rest of the kingdom has fallen asleep, unaware that the billowing clouds resting above Camelot are there for good. I hide my catacombs uniform in the folds of my ocean-blue gown and scrawl a note to my mother promising to explain everything later.
